A Very SOBbing Christmas
by Sassy SOBettes
Summary: Lucius and Narcissa are out of town and the Manor is empty for the holidays. What else could happen but a Christmas party? Slytherin style, of course...
1. Marshmallow Mayhem

A/N: Hey all, it's Ravyn, the "Prom Queen" Sobette, or so I hear. :-D Anyways, I didn't mean for this story to be so Draco-centric, but this chapter, at least, has turned out that way. I guess I just can't help myself… But I promise that I've got special SOB/cheerchic moments planned for each of my girls in subsequent chapters. Oh yeah, and I don't really think that Graham Pritchard's parents are Death Eaters, I just needed a young Slytherin scapegoat, without having to be bothered to make one up, and he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time… 

Disclaimer: Let's see… Ravyn is mine. The other cheerchics are theirs. Everything else belongs to JK Rowling and the large corporations that control this kind of thing. But I'm borrowing Draco and the other Sex-gods on Broomsticks, and there's no safe guarantee that they will be returned in proper condition once their respective cheerchics have gotten a hold of them. *Grins evilly*

~ Chapter 1: Marshmallow Mayhem ~

Malfoy Manor was beautiful during the holidays. The ceilings were alive with enchanted lights that twinkled like tiny stars; the dining table and chairs had been charmed to look like gracefully sculpted ice; live pine garlands hung everywhere, filling the air with their fresh scent; and a statue in the entrance hall had made a custom of saying, "Happy Christmas!" to any who passed by – that is, until it had disturbed Lucius Malfoy, who, in a particularly foul mood, had cursed it until all it could manage was a feeble, "Hamphy Rithmath…"

Yes, the Manor was lovely around Christmas time. More importantly, it was also empty.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were visiting Narcissa's family in the French countryside for the holidays, leaving the Manor in the hands of the many house elves and various other servants. The obvious options for their son, Draco, were to either stay at school or endure two weeks of his Great Aunt Mildred pinching his cheeks and telling him how cute he was. (It was, of course, the pinching that really irked him. He never tired of hearing how cute he was, even if his Great Aunt Mildred wasn't quite the person he'd like to hear it from.)

But of course, Draco wasn't about to opt for something obvious. He was a Malfoy, after all. He'd made his own plans for the holidays, and they were just about to be set in order…

Ravyn came down the stairs at her usual late hour, absently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. In her other hand was the note he'd left on her door, which her eyes scanned briefly before meeting his. She flashed him a small smirk, and he grinned back, delighted with the mischievous sparkle in her eyes. 

Yes, the Manor was lovely around Christmas time. And now it promised to be infinitely more fun, since he was going to be there alone with…

"Everybody! Oy, attention all Slytherins! Party at Malfoy Manor!"

Draco winced, his eyes snapping to the culprit: Graham Pritchard. The throng of Slytherins littered about the common room murmured excitedly at the announcement. In fact, Draco himself hadn't heard this news before. He had to shove through a group of third year girls to get at his unbidden announcer, who in this company looked quite happy with himself. That changed very quickly when Draco reached him.

"Yeah, and his parents won't even be home," Graham was saying excitedly, "so – we – can - " The younger Slytherin suddenly looked Petrified under Malfoy's malevolent gaze. The girls didn't look fazed by the older Slytherin's glare; in fact, several of them were giggling and one girl had to be propped up by her companions. 

For once, Draco didn't notice the attention. "If you'll excuse us…" he said shortly before taking Graham by the collar and dragging him from the room.

"Oof!" Graham grunted as he was shoved up against the cold stone wall of the Slytherin dungeon. He didn't get a chance to say much else.

"What _exactly_ do you think you're doing, Pritchard?" Draco demanded scathingly. "Did I tell you to invite the entire Slytherin House to Malfoy Manor, or did you get the impression that that responsibility somehow lies with you a different way? Perhaps it was my father who was so keen on this idea? No, more likely I think he doesn't know about this. Well, perhaps he would be interested to know that you've been so kind as to arrange this for us."

Graham looked terrified, but he hadn't been Sorted into Slytherin for nothing, and he managed to keep his head. "Go ahead, Malfoy," he replied. "It's _your _father, _your _house… which one of us do you think he'll blame first?"

"Which one of us is his only son and heir?" Draco shot back. Graham's last front of confidence shattered, and he cowered against the wall, unable to break away from the older Slytherin's grip. "What made you think you'd ever get away with something like this, anyway?"

"Well, I mean, everyone knows the Manor's going to be empty, and it just seemed like – eep, I mean, why don't you? How bad could it be? Everyone will love it, especially your cheering fangirl in there – ack!"

Graham squawked every time Draco adjusted his grip; of course, Draco was making no effort to be gentle about it. "That's what this is about, isn't it?" he hissed. "All right, which girl were you trying to impress this time?"

"Cai Lan," he squeaked.

"The fourth year? Are all the girls your age tired of you already?"

Ignoring the comment, Pritchard continued, "I couldn't tell her it was at my house. You know - " his voice was surprisingly conspicuous, even though he whispered the last words hoarsely " – you know that there's a Death Eater summit there."

Draco let go, and the boy dropped to his feet. He had known about the meeting at the Pritchard Mansion, of course, though he frankly wanted no part of it. The Malfoy's excursion to the French countryside was only a half-truth; while they would be visiting family there, his father would be attending the meeting of Voldemort's followers first. A waste of time, in Draco's opinion. How could one amuse one's self by mocking the Muggleborns if one was too busy trying to torture them? Of course, he didn't dare mention this to Lucius; he was fond of his inheritance, and was in no hurry to lose it. 

Even if Graham did consider the fact that his parents were newly allotted Death Eaters a point of bonding between the two and had been annoying Draco to no end since their initiation.

Graham was free, but didn't dare move. Draco took a moment to enjoy the power he had over small children (And people had the gall to tell him he wasn't grateful for the little things in life…) before speaking once again. "There is not going to be a party at Malfoy Manor," he said with finality. "Everyone had better know that by dinner."

With that, he turned on his heel and stalked back into the common room, leaving the boy alone in the dark dungeon hall, sneering at his retreating back.

"Oh, don't worry, Malfoy. _Everyone_ will know."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"So, Draco," Pansy Parkinson purred into his ear as she took a seat next to him at the Slytherin table. The roar of the Great Hall at breakfast that morning was not enough to drown her out when she insisted on pressing that close to him. "Why haven't I heard about this little party of yours before?"

"Because I'm not having a party," he said shortly, and turned his focus back to his cereal.

"That's a shame," she pouted. It might have almost been attractive if she hadn't spent the last ten years of her life attempting to persuade him with that look. Malfoys were not easily influenced, and it took much more – _persuasive_ tactics to accomplish it.  Besides, any one of the Quidditch team's "cheerchics," as they'd been called since their first public appearance at their match against Hufflepuff, could have pulled of the expression better than Pansy. 

"No," he told her, "it really isn't."

"Awe, Draco - "

"Look, Pansy, I have better things to do with my time than clean up after an entire House full of the likes of you traipsing about Malfoy Manor as if you own the place."

"Yes, that's Draco's job," Ravyn remarked from a few seats down the table. "He doesn't like it when people try to do it better than he does." Persephone giggled in the seat next to her, and they both cast sharp wry glances in his direction.

Draco glowered, hunkered down over his bowl, and said quite tersely, "Shut up." Pansy scoffed, leaving the table with a glare, and from the corner of his eye, he could see Ravyn smiling smugly. He met her eyes, adding brazenly, "I meant both of you."

In a flash, Ravyn's face went from bright to stormy. Her hands smacked down on the table, catching the attention of all of her friends. Most of them looked concerned, but a few had knowing grins. Draco had just made a mistake, and they knew it. 

He was about to find that out, as well.

Ravyn rose slowly, ominously, and paced down the table. The boys across from Draco parted quickly to make room for her, not daring to be in her way just now. She leaned forward, her eyes glinting dangerously, and she said in a slow, harsh whisper, "_What did you say?_"

"I know you think it's funny, de Borgia."

 "Yes, Malfoy," and he nearly winced to hear his name spoken with such spite, "I do. It's not every day the Great Malfoy Ego gets crushed like this, is it? Personally, I find it hilarious. And just because _you _can't fix the problem some little prat, who's not only younger than you but half your size, brought about for you, that doesn't give you the right to take it out on _me._"

She pushed back from the table, turning haughtily on her heel and not stopping until she'd reached the doors of the Great Hall. Angry as she was, she no doubt reveled in the looks from both the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables. 

"Oh, and Draco," she added. By now, even Ron Weasley had looked up from across the busy hall upon hearing Draco's name called out so spitefully. "The only people who eat cereal with little rainbow-colored marshmallows in it are children or people with the intelligence of the blasting end of a Blast-Ended Skrewt. Which are you?"

Draco heaved a sigh as the door slammed shut behind her, letting his spoonful of cereal dribble back into his bowl. After that little display, he'd suddenly lost his appetite. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It seemed like days before Draco was able to return to the Slytherin common room in peace. His classes had dragged on interminably. Ravyn wouldn't even look at him, not to mention speak to him; he knew she was hardly as angry as she made it seem, but if she could get attention from the incident, she would. By association none of her friends would speak to him, either, and consequently his own Quidditch teammates were scared to talk to him, as if by doing so they would incur the wrath of the cheerchics upon themselves. For once, not even Pansy was there for him to talk to. That left Crabbe and Goyle, who were frankly not the best of conversationalists. They weren't even good enough to be _bad _conversationalists. 

"No, they don't," Crabbe was saying as they descended the stairs into the dimly lit halls of the dungeons. 

"Yes, they do," Goyle replied, rounding the first corner. In front of the pair, Draco rolled his eyes. Their latest debate was whether or not they made cauldron cakes in actual cauldrons. If past experiences could be trusted, this could go on for quite a while before they got bored of this train of thought. Or forgot what they were arguing about.

"Yes, they do."

"No, they don't."

"Serpent's tongue," Draco muttered upon reaching the common room door, though he would have dearly loved to be muttering a curse at the pair of them instead.

"Yes, they - "

Goyle's comment was cut off as the door to the common room slammed shut behind Draco. This would buy him a moment's peace, at least, until someone let them in, or, between the two of them, they miraculously managed to come up with the password. 

The common room was buzzing with eager conversations of plans for the coming break. He heard the words "party" and "Malfoy" several times, but refrained from any violent reactions. He had bigger concerns just now.

The first of Ravyn's friends that caught his eye was Fallon Anderson, curled up in a chair before the fire, quill in hand, and scribbling madly away on her parchment. He'd taken no more than two steps in her direction when she stopped, raised her head, and glared at him. If Malfoys shuddered, he would have done so under the scorn in her dark eyes, but as it was, he simply rethought his decision and moved on. 

Next he noticed Xanne Malloy and Persephone Vafer huddled over a chessboard in the opposite corner. Morrigun Lennox was hidden behind her sketchbook nearby, her brow creased in concentration. And there, on the couch next to her, Ravyn herself was talking to Akasha Noctifer. The two giggled delightedly, though he only heard the word "Riddle" in their conversation and wondered briefly what they found so amusing. He didn't have much time to think about it, though, because their delighted expressions soon turned dark as he approached. Ravyn spoke quietly to Akasha, who nodded in understanding as the other girl got up, moving quickly up the stairs to the girls' dorms. Akasha's eyes fluttered briefly to Draco before she picked up the knitting that had been discarded on the couch next to her. It was forced, as if she almost wanted to look up, to say something to him…

He took a seat next to her, knowing that of all the cheerchics, she was the most sympathetic. Or if nothing else, she was the least likely to try and hex him. Most everyone was comfortable coming to Akasha with their problems. And he was right; he was just about to speak when she beat him to it.

"Apologize," she said abruptly, her fingers deftly working the Slytherin green yarn. 

"What?"

"Apologize to her," she said, leaving off her work and meeting his eyes. "That's all she wants. She knows you didn't mean it. But she wants to hear it from you."

"It's hardly too much to ask," Persephone said from the table nearby, where she had just taken one of Xanne's pieces with a faint smile. 

"Even for you, Malfoy," Xanne commented wryly.

He sighed, muttered a less-than-heartfelt thanks, and moved down the couch.

"Apologize," Morrigun reiterated shortly, not even giving him a chance to sit down or bothering to look up from her art to see the blonde-haired boy gape momentarily before holding his tongue. 

With minimal grumbling, Draco headed up the stairs to the girls' dormitories, the words "my father" surprisingly enough never once passing his lips. 

Several pairs of Slytherin eyes watched him go. When he'd disappeared around a bend in the stairs, his teammates rose cautiously. 

"They'll be making up, I suppose," Chaser Adrian Pucey remarked.

"Heh, knowing Draco, they'll only be making up for five minutes. The rest of the time he'll actually have to talk to her."

Marcus Flint, smirking at Cassius Warrington's comment, did not reply, instead saying, "I guess this means the girls will be in less of a smiting mood."

Warrington snorted loudly, causing Fallon to glance up at him from over the edge of her parchment. "Maybe _some_ of them will."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco knocked on the door that he knew to be the room Ravyn shared with several of her friends. He wasn't expecting a warm welcome, by any means, but he was a bit surprised to hear a callous, "Sod off, Malfoy."

He took a deep breath. So that's how it was going to be… "_Alohomora_," he muttered with a flick of his wand.

There was a derisive laugh from inside the room. "Did you honestly think we'd be that stupid? Even first years know that spell. It's going to be a bit harder to get in here than that."

Silence ensued for the moment, but for her quill on parchment within. A group of fourth years on their way to their room were surprised to find Draco, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the door. They gave him quizzical looks, but he did nothing more than raise an eyebrow in return. For Draco's part, he was just beginning to feel a bit like Crabbe and Goyle trying to get in the common room when an idea struck him.

"Evening, Pansy," he said to the wall. It didn't seem to matter that the Slytherin girl wasn't really there, because inside, the scratch of Ravyn's quill stopped suddenly. He waited for a moment, as if he were really hearing something in return. "Eh, why not? I could use a good snog, and I'm obviously not getting anywhere here…"

He hadn't even finished the sentence when Ravyn stood up so fast that her chair fell back and clattered on the stone floor. Her angry footsteps drew closer and closer, and then…

"Nice bloody try, Malfoy."__

_Damn._ Well, it had almost worked. He really only had one good idea left, but he was hesitant to try it. Being a student, he wasn't technically old enough to Apparate, at least not by Ministry standards. But, being a Malfoy, his mother had taught him how to do it ages ago when he'd asked her. He'd heard some pretty grotesque stories of people who thought it wouldn't hurt to Apparate onto the Hogwarts grounds, but since he wouldn't be crossing any of the wards…

He felt the familiar tug starting in his stomach and the feeling of sliding through blackness. When he felt still once more, he opened his eyes cautiously. A self-satisfied smirk crept over his face when he found that he'd ended up just where he'd planned: in front of the full-length mirror in the dorm room. After a quick check – _Yep, still gorgeous – _he turned to see Ravyn flopped on one of the five green, four-post beds, eyes wide with horror. 

"How did –? You can –? Draco, that's dangerous! Not to mention illegal, and –"

"I don't recall you ever objecting to doing anything illegal before," he commented dryly. 

This only daunted her for an instant, and then she said curtly, "Just say what you came to say and get out."

"I - " He paused for a moment, mulling over the words in his head. "I've never said this to anyone before," he told her earnestly.

Her eyebrow arched slightly, but otherwise her expression was bland as she watched him with venomous green eyes. 

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" She sounded angry, and he was expecting another outburst from her, but she only shook her head, laughing to herself. "That's the thing you've never said to anyone? I was expecting some deep, dark secret or – You're not kidding, are you? You never have said that to anyone before…"

He shook his head slowly, and she laughed aloud now, coming over to throw her arms around his neck. "Well, you did very well for your first time," and she kissed his pale cheek.

"I'm a fast learner." She had begun to pull away, but he caught her about the waist, gathering her lips up in his own. 

"I'm sorry, too," she told him when in the next few moments he'd pulled her back on her bed. "I shouldn't have made fun of your cereal. If you like the little marshmallows, that's fine with me."

He grinned, but any comments he would have had about it were cut off by a loud knock on the door. "Oy! Are you done in there yet?" Malice called from outside the door. "I only need my Charms book, and they've already made me wait five minutes down in the common room."

Ravyn smiled lightly, planted a kiss on Draco's forehead, and rose to take her ward off the door for her friend. 


	2. An Enthralling Visit

A/N: Yes, here it is, a full week after Christmas… I'm slow, okay? I'm sorry… Okay, I'm trying to make the transition from Draco and Ravyn to the whole group. I promise there will be lots of snogging for everyone later on, as well as general debauchery and inappropriateness as well. ;-) It is a Slytherin party, after all.

~ Chapter 2: An Enthralling Visit ~

" – and I think Kate is planning on visiting Kevin's house, and Fallon's taking Cassius home to meet her family – "

Ravyn was interrupted by a snort from Draco. She looked up at him with some surprise; it was the kind of undignified, spluttering sound that Draco rarely made.

"Warrington's meeting Anderson's family?"

Propping herself up on one elbow, she replied, "Yes. Why?"

"I can only assume that she got all her – hem,_ lovely _character qualities from them." She nodded lightly, still looking a bit confused. "So Warrington's going to be spending the holidays in a house full of Andersons." He chuckled. "Poor sod."

Ravyn's mouth curved into a small smirk as he pulled her back into his arms. She had propped herself up to look at him, but was resigned to resume her place, her head in his lap as the two of them sat on the couch in front of the fire in one of the many sitting rooms tucked away in Malfoy Manor. "Feeling pretty lucky, now, aren't you?" she teased.

He grinned as she studied the lines of his face from this new angle. "Well, I was going to save that for tonight, but if you're in the mood now – "

The pillow she'd been clutching quickly connected abruptly with his face. Had it been anyone else, he probably would have been reaching for his wand in the next instant; as it was, he knew it was only a part of their ongoing game.

"That's all you think about, isn't it?" she accused, though the light in her eyes told him that his proposition hadn't been entirely unwelcome. "That and the best possible ways to seriously piss off Harry Potter. And I'm not entirely sure that those two things are unrelated." 

He started so violently that she would have been thrown to the floor if she hadn't grabbed onto the front of his robes. "What _exactly_ does _that_ mean?" he demanded, getting nothing but giggles in return. 

"Oh!" It was her turn for a violent action as she sat up, eyes glowing with excitement. "You'll never guess what Potter's doing this Christmas!"

"What makes you think I care what Potter's doing?" he asked in return – or at least, he'd begun to. He'd gotten as far as, "What -?" before she interrupted him.

"And don't bother telling me that you don't care, because I know you want to know." 

"What's Potter doing?" he intoned, only a little grudgingly.

"He's staying at school again – so he can be with his girlfriend."

His eyes widened, and she grinned. "Potter's got a _girlfriend_?" he asked incredulously. 

"Well, not _technically_, but it's really only a matter of time."

"Who is it?"

Her nose wrinkled as her expression turned mischievous. "Xanne Malloy."

He stared at her. "Malloy?" She nodded eagerly, grinning wickedly. "Potter's got a Slytherin girlfriend? How the hell did he manage that?"

Content with his reaction, she laid her head in his lap once more. She'd known that little scrap of information would have a significant effect on him.

"What else do you know that I don't?" he asked, running his fingers through the shining black hair that framed her face.

"Hundreds of things," she replied, "but if you're talking about holiday plans, I think that's about it. Oh, and I hear Derrick's got plans with a girl but he won't say which one."

"Derrick who?"

She frowned up at him incredulously. "I knew you were self-absorbed, Draco, but to not even know your own teammate – "

"Vittorio Derrick?"

"Of course Vittorio Derrick!"

"Derrick's got plans with a girl?"

Her expression was made up of amusement and disbelief. "Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Well, Derrick – we all thought he was – "

"Gay and happy and merry are we! Fa la la la la la la! Everything looking so Christmassy! Fa la la la la la la!"

Ravyn propped herself up once more as Draco craned his neck to see over the couch. Several of the Manor house elves came frolicking into the room, carrying between them a large pine garland that wriggled like a struggling snake as they moved. She smiled to herself, casting a glance at Draco. He had an eyebrow arched, but his expression remained bland, as if he hadn't quite decided what to think.

"Ickle Master!" A tugging on Draco's robes redirected his attention from the dancing elves. "Ickle Master Malfoy, there are guests, Master."

Ravyn couldn't quite hide a snort of laughter, but Draco merely glared at her from the corner of his eyes as he replied, "Guests? Who?"

"Friends from Master's school, sir, down in the entrance hall."

"Friends from – ?" He cursed like she hadn't heard him curse since his team had lost that last Quidditch match to Ravenclaw. Ravyn barely smothered her laughter as he sprang lithely from the couch and was out the door almost before she had time to rise herself. 

"Why, what's wrong, ickle Master Malfoy?" she called teasingly after him from the top of the stairs.

All she heard in return was a string of, "Damn Pritchard, damn him, damn him, damn him…"

She'd begun to suspect the same thing. It looked like Pritchard hadn't followed through with his promise to dispel the party rumor. That, or Pansy had taken it up, bothersome slut that she was.

Just as she'd suspected, she heard familiar voices in the entrance hall when she'd finally made it down the third flight of stairs. How Draco didn't get lost in this massive manor was a mystery to her. She had a suspicion that there was some gene in the Malfoy family bred specifically for this.

" – thought we'd come early and help out," Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint was just finishing.

"Don't lie to me, Flint," Draco shot back. "You're all horny and there's no place else you can go that isn't full of parents or teachers – "

"As if he couldn't say the same about you," Ravyn teased, rounding the corner into the entrance hall, which was less of a hall and more of a giant sitting room near the main entrance, complete with high ceilings, a huge fireplace, and pictures of generations of scowling Malfoys glaring down at passersby. Ravyn suspected that Lucius had deliberately hung his most derisive relatives here to intimidate his guests.

Draco didn't get a chance to reply before Ravyn had seen exactly who these "guests" were. Flint had arrived with not only Akasha (since the two were hardly seen apart), but the entire Quidditch team and all of their fellow cheerchics as well. She let out a delighted squeal and rushed forward to hug her friends. Within seconds, the team was looking a bit doubtfully upon an ecstatically giggling cheerchic cluster.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Much as Draco and Ravyn had been before, there were now six couples sprawled on couches in a lounge in the Manor, in various states of "friendliness" ranging from Montague and Morrigun looking quite cute in each other's arms to Fallon and Warrington bantering in a surprisingly passive way. Vittorio Derrick was surrounded by the remaining girls, all absorbed in a conversation of their own. 

Draco was considerably tenser than he had been earlier, and Ravyn knew he was itching to curse something. Or, more accurately, some_one_.

"Why don't you just have the party?"

He glared. "What?"

"Well, it'll be the last thing anyone would expect. Whoever's behind this – Pritchard or Parkinson, whoever it might be – thinks you're going to go on a murderous rampage when they show up."

"Damn right. They – "

"All right, all right, I know all about the Malfoy code of honor. What I'm saying is, have the party and give them what they least expect. It's not like you can't afford it. You could feed the whole House for days, and your parents wouldn't even notice the money was gone. And this place is so big that they could be home and they wouldn't notice a party going on at the other end of the Manor."

"That's true. We've given up using the east wing. It's too far to walk; it's just not worth it." 

She looked at him with wide eyes; the humor came not in what he'd said but the fact that his tone was so bland she actually had no idea whether or not he was joking.

"I say do it."

"Here, here!" said Pucey loudly from the couch where he had an arm around Malice. He was looking at Malfoy with a grin and asked, "What are we talking about?"

"The party Malfoy's having tonight."

"Oh, you mean there really is a party?" Persephone asked, her eyes lighting up.

"I thought we'd just come to grace Malfoy with our enthralling presence," Warrington remarked.

"That only works when you actually have an enthralling presence, Warrington."

"I have an enthralling presence! Well… I could, if I wanted to!"

"That really depends on your definition of enthralling."

"I – "

While various cheerchics had been teasing Warrington, Draco had been speaking to a house elf who had slipped in unnoticed. He now stood up with some force. "All right, Warrington, you're not enthralling. Enthralling is a speck on the horizon to you. Now, everyone, if you would kindly shut up – "

"Is this how you treat all your guests, or are we just lucky?"

"Yeah, Malfoy, I mean, I know you're not one for manners except for your own benefit, but really, you could at least say please…"

There was a knock on the door. "Draco, sweetie?"

Draco said something in French. Since he didn't know any French that wasn't a curse word, even those in the room who weren't familiar with the language knew he wasn't too happy about the sugary voice at the door.

"Who's that?" Flint asked – a little too loudly, as Draco immediately sprang on him, dragging him from the couch and shoving him in the general direction of a bookcase on the opposite wall.

It was Ravyn who answered the question that had passed through all their minds. In the near-silence, she mouthed a single word: "Narcissa."


	3. Of Dark and Dirty Places

A/N: Whee! Two chapters in one week! It's really short, but, eh, what can you do?

 ~ Chapter 3: Of Dark and Dirty Places ~

Six Quidditch players and an even larger number of cheerchics were crammed into a small space behind one of the bookshelves in a lounge in Malfoy Manor. Draco had shoved them all in there the instant he'd heard his mother's voice. Now there was very little for them to do but shift uncomfortably (or not so uncomfortably, in some cases) in the cramped space. 

"This is ridiculous," Xanne hissed. "Will someone cast a Lumos spell already?"

"I can't," Calypso replied. "I can barely breath, not to mention move my arm."

"Oops, sorry," Montague said to Morrigun.

She looked up at him in the musty darkness. "Liar." He only grinned.

Meanwhile, Ravyn and Persephone were shoved up against the bookcase itself, attempting to see what was happening on the other side. "Do you see anything?" Persephone asked.

"No," Ravyn replied. "But whoever just touched my ass is going to answer to Draco for it."

There was a bit of nervous shuffling, but no one owned up to the fact. Ravyn stood on the tips of her toes in order to see out of a gap near the top of the bookcase. 

Outside, Draco was seated on a couch with Narcissa. He seemed to be doing a good job of acting casually, even though both of them had just found the other unexpectedly in the Manor. Narcissa shared her son's white blonde hair and pale, flawless skin. They had the same pointed features and arching brows. However, where Draco's eyes were gray and guarded, sometimes cool and steely, sometimes ablaze with silver starlight, Narcissa's were bright and blue and welcoming. But there was little doubt that this Malfoy was any less deadly than her son. She regarded him with a smile, and began conversationally, "Draco, darling, I thought you were staying at school for the holidays?"

"Yes, well," For that instant, Ravyn held her breath. Beneath the woman's sweet exterior was the sting of suspicion. But, if anyone could get out of this situation, Draco could. "You know those teachers, always playing favorites, getting on my case every five minutes just because I got Sorted into Slytherin… I just needed a break."

"I see." She did see, obviously; she saw that Draco wasn't being fully honest with her. 

"And what are you doing home? Aren't you and father supposed to be at the Pritchards?"

"Your father and I aren't the ones who require parental permission." She fixed him with a pointed gaze.

"Ah, well, Professor Snape – "

"Speaking of playing favorites," Narcissa remarked coolly. 

It was quite amusing to watch Draco interact with his mother. He could lie, cheat, bully, and manipulate quite a few people when he really put effort into it. But his mother seemed to be a different case. He didn't seem nervous; Draco didn't show weaknesses like that. But she'd never seen him hesitate like he was in this conversation.

If she'd had room, Ravyn would have been talking notes. She had the feeling she could learn a lot from this woman. 

"So, why have you come home early?" Draco's casual question could be accurately translated as, 'What the hell are you doing here?' 

Narcissa waved a delicate hand dismissively with all the grace of a white rose arching in the wind. "You know how your father and all his friends get. One drink and it's all 'death, death, death,' with a bit of plundering and a good bit of humiliation thrown in. Quite sordid, really, not to mention repetitive."

The next part of the conversation was lost when Kevin Bole sneezed suddenly, followed by sharp repeals from the people surrounding the Beater. "I'm sorry," he hissed back. "Damn dusty in here."

"All right, that's enough." Morrigun shoved through towards the back of the little crowd, wielding her wand as soon as she had enough room to reach for it.

"Ow! That was my foot," Flint complained. 

"If you're not quiet," Fallon growled, "it'll be higher up."

The three Chasers gulped simultaneously. Akasha patted Flint's arm comfortingly, but there was little time for her to speak before – 

"SPIDER!"

There were a few high-pitched squeals, followed by several people saying gruffly, "Calm down! It's just a stupid bug!" Fallon's was perhaps the most disturbing reaction; she immediately shoved past her companions, calling out, "Oh! Is it poisonous? Catch it, quick!"

"Hush, all of you! They'll hear…"

And, just as Jeannie had warned, Draco was saying something to the effect of, "Stupid house elves…" to Narcissa and casting his "I-May-Have-To-Conviniently-Forget-The-Charm-That-Opens-That-Secret-Passage" glare murderously in the direction of the bookshelf. Narcissa rose, glancing in their direction, and Ravyn drew a breath…

"So, nice talking to you, mum, but father will be expecting you back, I should think…" Draco steered his mother towards the door, and Ravyn let her breath out slowly. Three more steps, and they'd be gone. Two more steps, and they'd be out of this musty little corner of hell. One more step…

"Oh, but Draco, dear," Narcissa said, pausing to face her son. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?"

Seventeen Slytherin hearts stopped beating in that instant, and every one of them was thinking the same thing.

Oh. Bloody. Hell. 


	4. Best Behavior

A/N: Wai! More than two pages this time! *does happy ficcying dance* Sorry to anyone who's offended by the squishing of spiders. I wouldn't normally, but it sort of fit in with the plot. Heh, such as my plot is, anyways. :-P I've started into working in other SOB/SOBette moments. Hope you enjoy. :-D Oh, and shout out to our Fearless Leader and my cheerchic partner in crime, Thalia! :-D Thanks for all your help. Love you all!

~ Chapter 4: Best Behavior ~

Having tea with Narcissa Malfoy was like socializing with a dragon; the creature leading the way to the dining hall was elegant, graceful, proud – and capable of ripping one's head clean off without so much as breaking a perfectly manicured fingernail. But when the door had opened before them and the hidden Slytherins had come piling out onto the floor in a much less dignified manner than they would have hoped for, and the woman had done nothing more than insist they stay for tea, they of course felt they were getting a pretty nice bargain. 

The girls followed Narcissa into the dining hall with all the grace and style of women born into high society. As soon as the last girl in line had entered the room, Draco stopped and swung about to cast a seething glare at his teammates. "Flint," he said brusquely, "would you mind?"

Flint cleared his throat purposefully, but was quickly disrupted by Montague. "We don't need a pep talk, Malfoy. We've all done this before. We know how to behave ourselves."

Malfoy gave the Chaser a challenging look and replied wryly, "Oh, really?"

 "All right, men," Flint began, moving to stand before the group. His duties as captain were one of his greatest pleasures in life (along with Akasha, of course), and he wasn't about to let his quarreling team deprive him of his shining moment. "You know the rules. No cursing, no shoving, no talking with your mouth full, no biting, no hexing, no bodily functions – "

"Unholy Slytherins!" Warrington interrupted. "We're only human, man!"

"Yes, we're all aware of how unholy Slytherins are," Malfoy said dryly. "That's _exactly_ why you're being warned."

"As I was saying," Flint said, only a slightly reproachfully, "no slouching, no yelling, no snogging at the table – " 

"Heh," Pucey snorted, "I think Malfoy's the only one guilty of that. Well…" He hesitated, his eyes grazing his companions with a delightedly guilty smile, "_consistently_, anyway."

" – and please, _please_, no innuendo around Draco's mum."

Several players who–shall–remain–nameless scoffed at that, but they all agreed, if a little grudgingly, and entered the room.

The bright white of the Malfoy's dining hall was enhanced by an entire wall of windows with a gorgeous view of the Manor's enchanted gardens, which just now were covered in perfect, even layers of magical snow. Streams of bright, winter sunlight illuminated the great hall in its silvery glow. The furniture, charmed to seat the number of diners, currently looked as though it were sculpted from ice, and the table was set with pearlescent dishes and glasses of lustrous crystal. The girls all seemed to be in their element, elegant and beautiful, surrounded by the rich atmosphere of Malfoy Manor. The Quidditch team filed in, taking their seats at the table. Narcissa raised her hand, and almost before she'd spoken, the table was filled with trays of delicious treats and pots of tea complete with Warming Charms. 

"Where's Bole?" Derrick asked before taking a bite of a cauldron cake. Even the foods they ate nearly every night at Hogwarts tasted better in the charming Malfoy Manor. 

"Kate's gone, too," Morrigun remarked, and at this, several seated near her smirked. 

"Oh, _I see_," Pucey remarked, and he couldn't have been more obvious if he'd actually winked at someone. 

"Lucky sod," Warrington remarked around a mouthful of ginger snap, for which he was kicked sharply in the shin by Fallon, who sat across the long table from him. 

"Since we're on the subject," Persephone began.

"We've all heard you've got some pretty exciting plans for this vacation," Calypso finished for her friend, Derrick found himself pinned under the eager gaze of several girls.

"I – well…"

"Oh, leave the poor bloke alone," Pucey said on his teammate's behalf.

"Honestly, you're like vultures," Warrington added, jumping once more and giving Fallon a bitter look.

"We're just curious," Malice replied, pouting delightfully – well, Pucey found it delightful, at any rate. 

"We just heard Derrick had plans with a girl, and we wanted to know who it was," Jeannie added defensively.

Montague nearly choked on a raspberry scone, and Warrington looked at the girls as if they'd just suggested they cover themselves in jam and go caroling to the neighbors. As for the Beater in question, Derrick seemed suddenly very preoccupied with stirring sugar into his tea. 

"A girl?" Flint asked, sounding quite incredulous. And then, while the girls regarded him with raised eyebrows and skeptical looks, he began to laugh. "You mean, you don't – you all think... didn't you know Derrick's a – "

"PANSY!"

The outburst at the other end of the table caught everyone's attention, and all eyes were suddenly on Draco, who had stood up in such a rush that his chair had fallen over. Two house elves were struggling to right the chair, one of them saying meekly, "Yes, ickle Master, she's waiting in the entrance hall…"

"Well, by all means, bring her in," Narcissa said. When her son looked murderous, she countered his glare with a cool smile. "After all, it's rude to leave her waiting." 

"Yes, Draco, don't be rude," Ravyn chimed in. "Invite her to join us."

Since Draco's thoughts had been more along the lines of feeding her to a Basilisk bit by bit, Ravyn's suggestion understandably startled him, especially since the black-haired girl hadn't had a conversation anywhere near "friendly" – or even in the vicinity of "civilized" - with Pansy Parkinson since the two girls had had a duel towards the beginning of term. "All right," he said with transparent geniality. "Good. Great. Fantastic! Bring her in!"

The house elves scampered away, leaving the group waiting in uneasy curiosity. There was something very wrong when Ravyn de Borgia invited Pansy Parkinson to tea. There were few possibilities: either the girl was going to extreme measures to win the favor of her boyfriend's mother, she'd gone stark raving mad, or she had some sort of weapon concealed beneath the table and was planning a surprise attack. Knowing her as they did, only the last choice seemed remotely plausible. 

But in truth, that wasn't quite the case. Ravyn did have a weapon, but it was not under the table; actually, it was a few seats down from her. She and Fallon exchanged smug smirks.

~~^~~v~~^~~v~~^~~v~~^~~v~~^~~

_Meanwhile, somewhere beneath the third floor…_

"Bloody Manor," Kate LeFay cursed for what seemed like the hundredth time. "Trust the ruddy Malfoys to have _actual_ trap doors."

Kevin Bole was standing a little ways away, examining the ceiling through which they had both fallen moments before. They hadn't noticed it walking over it just behind their group of friends, and it was still very well concealed; in the dim light of his Lumos spell, he could only guess exactly which section of the floor had fallen away from beneath their feet. 

"Are you going to complain all day," he asked, "or are you going to help me find a way out of here?"

Kate glared at him with all the fiery passion she'd inherited from her ancestress, Morgan LeFay. "Look, Bole, I've just fallen twenty feet into Merlin knows where. Oh, but don't worry, I wasn't hurt. Luckily, this disgusting, smelly ooze broke my fall." She disdainfully indicated the carpet of thick, malodorous slime that covered the floor of their current, murky surroundings. 

"Actually," he said, matching her sarcastic sentiments, "_I _broke your fall."

"I wouldn't suggest messing with me just now," she finished.

"I've got an idea," he told her, ignoring her warning. "But I'm going to need your help."

Kate was silent.

"I need your help… please?"

She didn't even look up, instead studying her neatly manicured nails. 

He sighed to himself, moving over to where she sat. Kneeling so that they were both eye to eye, he took her hand in both of his. "Oh great goddess of the House of Slytherin, I put forth my humble plea that such a dazzling beauty might lend a poor Beater your assistance?"

She finally responded with a raised eyebrow. "What do you want, then?"

"You in my bed with a can of whip cream, but for now I'll settle for you standing over here."

"What for?" she asked dubiously.

"What, you standing here or the whipped cream?" His impudent grin faded when she glared, and he continued more soberly, "Well, judging by the giant Slytherin-shaped splat in the mud here, that's where we fell from." Gesturing at the ceiling above him to illustrate his point, he added, "So, if you'll be so kind as to come over here, I'll Levitate you up to the door and you can get us out of here."

He waited in silence as she flashed quite a skeptical look. "That's it?" she asked finally. "That's your brilliant plan? Aren't you supposed to be the smart one on the team?"

"Well, I didn't notice any brilliant ideas coming from your side of this hellhole. _Wingardium leviosa!_"

Kate found herself flying upwards before she could protest. It wasn't nearly as pleasant as one might imagine; she was racing upwards with no control over her own speed or direction, and the hard ceiling was growing ever closer.

"Bole, you – left, _left_! Stop!!"

She didn't quite miss a beam of the hard wood ceiling, and let him know quite vividly with a string of curses. "If I could see you, I'd hex you to a pulp!"

"All right," he called back good-naturedly, but would you mind if we got out of here first?"

She felt around above her head, grew impatient, aimed her wand randomly above her, and muttered, "_Alohomora._" The trapped door popped open with a click, and she agilely pulled herself up onto the carpeted floor above.  She grudgingly took the time to clean herself up with a spell before turning back to the hole in the floor next to her. With an irritated, "_Accio _Kevin!" they were both free.

"That was easy," he said brightly, looking around as if he had expected to come out in the middle of their friends' afternoon tea.

"Too easy," Kate replied. "This isn't where we were before."

She was right. They were free – and they were also incredibly lost. 

~~^~~v~~^~~v~~^~~v~~^~~v~~^~~

Pansy Parkinson entered a room full of her Housemates with little more than a few harsh glances and muttered greetings, save the pleasantries exchanged with Narcissa. What intimidated her infinitely more than any of these was the welcome she got from Ravyn. 

"Hello, Pansy," she said brightly. Pansy nearly choked when the girl flashed her a smile and gestured towards the empty seat that had appeared across from her at the table. The others watched the display with the same sadistic fascination with which one witnesses a dragon devouring its prey. "Do have a seat, won't you?"

"G-good afternoon, de Borgia." Pansy's uncertainty was so obvious it was practically written across her pug-like face.

Just as plain was Ravyn's delight with Pansy's apprehension. Draco, over his initial shock, was hiding the beginnings of a smirk as Pansy sat across from the pair of them. Ravyn grinned back at him, but when she spoke, she addressed Narcissa. 

"So, Mrs. Malfoy, Draco tells me you're visiting the French countryside for the holidays?" She smiled sweetly, showing her mastery of refined conversation as she waited politely for the woman to respond. Not to be out done, Pansy leaned in eagerly.

Just what Ravyn had been expecting. 

With Pansy and Narcissa neatly distracted, neither of them noticed Fallon producing a sleek, glass vial from her robes. Nor did they seem to see her opening the vial and removing a single spider, an intimidating ebony spot on the pure white tablecloth. And most importantly, they didn't detect her whispering the spell that would send the arachnid hurtling into the mass of blonde, crimped hair that was the back of Pansy Parkinson's head. 

Not until it was too late.

Pansy seemed absorbed in her effort to appear more interested in what Narcissa Malfoy had to say than Ravyn. The fact that it was Draco's mother had very little to do with it anymore; it was purely the competition that drove her. But even this determination was broken when suddenly two black legs were feeling their way down her forehead.

Chaos broke loose, mostly on Pansy's part, as the girl sprang from her chair, flailing madly. For the moment, the eight-legged menace was lost in the excitement. However, the two menaces who had set it loose on Pansy were snickering victoriously into their napkins along with their friends. Narcissa, not loosing her dignified cool for a second in the situation, graciously escorted Pansy to the nearest restroom, leaving the others to enjoy the entertainment unobstructed. 

"That," Draco said with a genuine grin, "was bloody brilliant."

"Why thank you," Ravyn said. "But I can't take all the credit. Take a bow, Fallon!"

Fallon Anderson, Mistress of All Things Deadly, stood up, preening in pleasure, and bowed to an applauding audience. 

"And speaking of help, your little friend is loose around here somewhere," Morrigun remarked, casting a dubious glance around the table's surface for the spider.

"No, I've got Draco perfectly under control," Ravyn quipped, but Persephone interrupted any response Malfoy may have had to this.

"Erm… Fallon? I hate to be the one to tell you this, but…" She held up a chocolate biscuit, showing her friend the bottom, which had the imprint of one very flat, black spider, its eight legs splayed out around it. 

Fallon looked slightly upset at the fact. "Oh! That slut must have squished in while she was making her huge, ugly scene…"

Ravyn only smirked. "Don't worry, hon. I know what will make you feel better." She took the cookie from Persephone and placed it appealingly near Pansy's plate. She looked back at Fallon, who now wore a smirk as evil as Ravyn's.

At that moment Narcissa entered the room, saying, "Miss Parkinson seems to be over her little – condition." The words were not said harshly, and yet somehow gave the distinct impression that the woman was not overly fond of the girl. "Tell me, Miss de Borgia," she said, taking her seat at the head of the table, "how are your parents? I haven't heard from them for a while."

Ravyn answered with a charming smile; without a doubt, she'd won the latest battle in the war she fought with Pansy daily. However, even her expression of triumph disappeared when Narcissa Malfoy reached for something none of them had expected…

A chocolate biscuit. 

And not just any chocolate biscuit – the one with the special arachnid glaze, meant just for Pansy. 

There was a moment of silence as fifteen pairs of Slytherin eyes watched the woman raise the treat to her lips, each too horrified to know quite what to do. And then…

"Mistress?"

One of the small house elves who'd announced Pansy's arrival had returned and was tugging gently at Narcissa's flowing robes of pale blue. She looked questioningly down at it, a slight smile softening her expression.

"Mistress, she's broken a towel rack…"

Narcissa looked up in what might have been an eye roll, which only made the statement more amusing, and once again those present were smothering their mirth. However, when Narcissa had gone, they made no attempt at this and laughed aloud. 

"A towel rack? I wouldn't have expected it, not even from Parkinson…"

"I wonder how _that _happened."

"She probably sat on it, the cow."

"Maybe she was waiting for Draco to come rescue her."

Ravyn grinned at Draco. It was all too obvious how hard Pansy tried to get Draco's attention – so of course, she teased him about it incessantly.

"She would have been waiting for quite a while," he replied. Ravyn smiled, knowing that in some off-handed way, that had actually been a compliment meant for her. Draco had never been one for public affection. Unless, of course, it got him somewhere. 

Moments later, Narcissa returned, followed by a very cross–looking Pansy. Parkinson shot a glare down the table at Fallon as she sat, as if she somehow knew she'd been the responsible for the whole spider situation. More likely, it was just Pansy's inherent dislike for the girl showing through. At any rate, Pansy took her seat, and the tea continued with little interruption.

Except when Pansy had reached for a certain chocolate biscuit that had once more been placed tantalizingly within her reach. They'd all paused in their eating to watch that. 


	5. Contact Sports

A/N: If you don't know (or can't guess :-P) the difference between Quidditch and QUIDDITCH, this chapter probably won't make much sense to you. But for all my girls, hope you enjoy. :-D

~ Chapter 5: Contact Sports ~

One by one, fifteen pairs of Slytherin eyes became glued to Pansy Parkinson's face. Her chewing slowed, and she looked back at them all with wide eyes. Shakily, she turned the half a biscuit left in her hand over, and the sight that made them all shudder inwardly: the four legs of a partially devoured spider. The blonde girl's face distorted violently, and it looked as though she would be sick. The house elves obviously noticed this as well, and they were suddenly nearby with a bucket and a good deal of Mrs. Scower's Magical Mess Remover. 

Her housemates observed the girl as she quickly spit into a napkin with varying expressions: some of extreme amusement, some of total disgust, and some, like Draco's and Ravyn's across from the tormented girl, remained perfectly composed.

"Why, Pansy, dear," Ravyn asked with a serenely angelic expression, "what's wrong?"

Pansy had thus far tolerated all of the ongoing battles with Draco's girlfriend, but apparently the ingestion of arachnids was too much even for the strong-willed Slytherin. "You – you – " she spluttered incoherently, getting to her feet as if preparing to dive over the table at Ravyn. "You little whore!"

"My, my, Parkinson," Jeannie remarked from down the table a ways, "you've been drinking from the Malfoys' china with that mouth? It's bad enough that you're worth fewer Galleons than the sugar bowl…"

At this moment, Pansy bore striking resemblance to a basilisk – although any of those present would confirm that she lacked the proud dignity and dangerous beauty of the reptilian beast. Her vicious glare, however, seemed no less lethal. No one knew quite what to expect from her, and even Ravyn looked less than self-assured under the vile gaze. She instinctively reached for her wand, but before she could react, Pansy had already taken aim. 

"Colligo adligamentum!"

There was a loud bang followed by a moment of stunned silence in which even Narcissa looked surprised. Pansy now lay on the floor several feet back from her chair bound in rope up to her mouth so that even if she'd been inclined to speak, it would have been quite impossible. But she, like the others, was too absorbed in staring at Draco in shock. Her gaze was less impressed and more of a 'How-dare-you-you-smarmy-little-prat' look, but she was absorbed in it nonetheless.

Pucey broke the silence with his simple comment, "Nice shot, Malfoy."

"Good instincts," Flint answered, the fact that a member of their house was tied up on the floor somewhere behind them apparently not of utmost importance to either of them. "That's why he's our Seeker."

"Really?" Warrington asked, and the conversation was beginning to sound more and more as if they were lounging about the leather furniture in the Slytherin common room than having tea at an aristocratic manor. "I thought he was our Seeker because his family has an embarrassing amount of money and they buy us new broomsticks every year."

Someone coughed pointedly, and the Chaser glanced up at the head of the table. Had Draco been paying attention, he would surely have been glaring furiously, but the Malfoy in question was Narcissa, who regarded her son's teammate with a raised eyebrow. "Bloody generous of you, by the way, Mrs. Malfoy," he added, still quite unashamed of his comment. 

He got no reply other than the buzz of a small knife that went hurtling past his head, missing him by a mere centimeter. Across the table, Fallon was giving him a look that plainly said, 'I missed on purpose.' He only rolled his eyes, and her expression darkened.

"I apologize on his behalf for his uncouth and uncivilized behavior and speech, Mrs. Malfoy," the girl said to Narcissa. "I will make sure that from now on, not he, or ANY OF THE OTHERS, will cause you any more distress." The threat in Fallon's voice was quite plain, and, considering the revenge she and Ravyn had just exacted on Pansy, even these six Slytherin males were likely to heed the glare that swept over each of them.

"That's very kind of you, Miss Anderson," Narcissa replied. If Fallon's brazen glare did not alarm them, the subtle hint of amused approval in the older woman's voice would certainly make them think twice. "And now, if you'll all excuse me, I'm afraid I must be going. Miss Parkinson, I'd be glad to see you home as well…"

Narcissa rose gracefully; not even she seemed to care that Pansy was still bound from the nose down. "Lovely meeting you all." Her sweet tone could be accounted for by two things: either Narcissa was very, very good at being polite when it was called for, or she had actually enjoyed their company – in which case she was barking mad and Draco had just neglected to mention it. "Draco, darling, you know where your father and I will be. And, erm…" She hesitated for just a moment, casting a doubtful glance down the table at all the friends Draco had brought into her home. Her very large, very wealthy home.

"Try not to break anything too expensive."

With that, Narcissa was gone. She paused for a moment in the doorway, waiting for Pansy to catch up with her. The fact that Pansy was not walking but was being carried by several of the manor elves did not seem to dawn on her. Pansy, however, was quite expressly aware of the fact, but she seemed to also realize that at this point she didn't have a scrap of dignity left to protect, because she only struggled half-heartedly. 

The remaining Slytherins retired to the Malfoys' main sitting room, having a laugh over Parkinson's grand exit.

"That was classic, really," Xanne chirped.

"I just want to imprint the look on her face in my mind," Ravyn said happily. 

But, oddly enough, Fallon, who held Pansy in the highest contempt, looked less than enthusiastic. 

"What's wrong?" the ever-observant Morrigun asked the girl, who lounged on the couch next to her with a decidedly decadent air. 

"You're not on about that spider getting squished, are you?" Malice queried, her voice slightly disdainful. "I mean, I love magical creatures and all, but honestly…"

"No," Fallon replied, "it's just…"

"Yes?"

The dark-haired girl sighed, saying wistfully, "If only it had been more poisonous…" Her wistful air was broken by a grin, which, when paired with Ravyn's evil smirk, was almost frighteningly evil. 

"She is quite an annoying bint, isn't she?" Pucey commented, taking a seat next to Malice on a cream-colored couch. His blatant attempt to put his arm around the girl was met with a raised eyebrow, and his arm fell promptly back into his lap. 

"_You _think she's annoying," Draco said wryly. "Just think how I feel. I'm the one she's taken to stalking."

"Yes, Malfoy," Flint replied with just as much of a sarcastic edge as Malfoy would have pulled off himself. "You live in a mansion larger than Hogwarts castle, you're so rich you could live your entire life without ever lifting a finger and still have Galleons piled up to your knees, you've got two girls fighting over you – and at least one of them is quite pretty – and you're one of the top students in your year _and _you get away with everything at school because our head of house either likes you or is scared to death of your father… I have nothing but the greatest pity for you."

Draco seethed, but next to him Ravyn was beaming. She grinned at Akasha, saying brightly, "If he proposes, say yes."

Akasha smiled radiantly back. "I was planning on it."

Flint looked distinctly uneasy, but was saved by Derrick's comment. "It is quite annoying when that Parkinson girl follows us around."

"She's always at Quidditch practice," Draco added bitterly. 

Morrigun glanced at Ravyn. "Does he mean Quidditch, or does he mean QUIDDITCH?" she inquired with a mischievous smile. The Quidditch team was looking at her curiously, but the girls all broke into wide grins. 

"You must have noticed her there," Warrington said, not quite knowing what the girls were on about (it was a subject he was constantly confused about). "I mean, you're at all our practices, as well."

Persephone giggled. "Fallon, is it true that he needs practice?" This comment was followed by another outburst of feminine giggles. 

The boys exchanged glances, thinking among themselves that perhaps Pansy wasn't the only one who'd been eating strange insects at tea. "We all practice," Flint said cautiously. "How else are we going to beat the Gryffindors?"

One of the cheerchics uttered something that sounded quite a bit like, "Kinky," but none of the boys were really sure what was said among the laughter. 

"I don't know," Jeannie said. "I don't think these girls would be too happy about that." With a sweeping gesture, she indicated Persephone, Xanne, and Calypso.

"Well, we've got to have teams. What's the point if you can't play Quidditch in teams?" Pucey argued, but got the frustrating response of more giggling. 

"I suppose that's better than playing by yourself," Ravyn said, which was met by more giggles.

"I don't know, you could play Quidditch by yourself." The girls paused to look at Warrington a bit skeptically. "I mean, if you really wanted to," he continued, slightly put off by the fact that he really had no clue where this discussion was going. "As long as you've got a broomstick and a couple of balls…"

"Oh. My. God." But Malice's exclamation dissolved into laughter, and the cheerchics all seemed helpless with mirth. 

After the laughter had died down, another house elf (because they seemed quite busy with conveniently moving the plot along lately) announced that there were more guests waiting in the entrance hall. Draco muttered something about hexing Pansy Parkinson until her face stuck and rose to receive them. "I don't suppose anyone heard that this party was starting at four o'clock in the afternoon?" he asked dryly, checking the time on the rather imposing grandfather clock that stood against the wall nearby.

"Yeah, I think that's what he said," Flint supplied.

"Hmm… Maybe we should have actually been getting ready for it all this time," Pucey commented thoughtfully. 

"Don't worry about that," Draco muttered. "Idiot time for a party, really, but then I suppose, coming from Pritchard, that shouldn't surprise me…" And then he was gone, leaving the others to wonder what other surprises the Manor held for a growing party of Slytherins. 

Upon reaching the entrance hall, Draco found that the guests were Graham Pritchard and some other younger members of his house. "Pritchard," Draco greeted in his usual less-than-friendly manner. "I'm surprised you had the balls to show up, really. You should have known you'd just lose them."

The younger Slytherin only smirked. "You're in a sour mood today, Malfoy. Is something wrong?"

"Your concern's quite touching, but I'm fine, really. Just a bit of a headache from hearing Parkinson's voice too much today."

Graham's grin grew. "Ah, so Parkinson's here?"

Draco's eyes flashed in amusement. He had guessed that those two were plotting against him. They would soon know better. "No," he said matter-of-factly, "actually, she just left. I'm afraid the Manor food didn't agree with her," he added, smirking to himself. "You just missed her. Not that any of us have. But no matter. Come in, please. You can't miss the party. After all, there wouldn't be one without you."

Malfoy being nice was evidently quite a bit more nerve-wracking than Malfoy being his usual arrogant self, and Graham looked quite nervous as Draco gestured for them to follow him from the hall. 

~^~~v~~^~~v~~^~~v~~^~~v~~^~

"Bugger."

The thought was running through most of their minds, but Flint was the first to voice it. Ravyn had just thrown open the second door in her attempt to find the room Draco was sure to have led the other guests to. However, as he and the house elves seemed to have vanished at quite an inconvenient time, the group wasn't having the best of luck finding it. 

"All right," Ravyn sighed, "I _know _it's around here somewhere…"

A third door turned up no party room; however, they did find something of interest. Kevin Bole and Kate le Fay were snuggled comfortably in a closet, snogging as if their lives depended on it. 

"Oh!" Kate exclaimed, drawing herself up. "Hello, everyone."

"What –? Never mind," Xanne said, obviously drawing her own conclusions about the situation. 

"That's the spirit, Bole," Calypso said, punching his arm amiably. "It's Christmas break, and you're still busy with the Quidditch training."

As shadows of their former conversation reared their ugly, gutter-minded heads, the girls giggled, but any further comment was cut off by Ravyn's jubilant cry. 

"I've found it!"

The door fell open to reveal a sight that certainly none of them had been expecting. The house elves must have been busy during their afternoon tea, and the room had been decorated brilliantly for the short amount of time. A blazing fire on the opposite wall burned green, casting eerie shadows of elegant furniture on the walls in the growing twilight let in by the windows. Tables scattered about the room were covered with trays and drinks, and music that seemed to have no source filled the air. As time went on, a steady flow of Slytherins began trickling in, gradually filling the room with their usual behavior. It was a whirlwind of innuendo, alcohol, and classical music, the perfect balance of aristocratic Malfoy elegance and brazen Slytherin debauchery. 

For now. That would, of course, all change.

Draco was smiling faintly at Ravyn where she sat next to him on the couch. "What?" she asked lazily. Surrounded by her friends, who had all found many unique ways to enjoy themselves in this atmosphere, she was content, happy to lie in his arms in their private little corner of one of the couches gracing the room.

He shook his head faintly. "You belong here," he said faintly. 

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you survived being caught by my mother, of all people, you certainly let Pansy know what happens to anyone who gets in your way, you fit in just as well here as you did at tea. You're a true aristocrat, but what's more, you're a true Slytherin. That's why my mother likes you more than that Parkinslut, and that's why I – "

Her eyes lit up, as if she knew exactly which words played on the tip of his tongue. "Yes?"  

"That's why I think you belong here. You could be a Malfoy."

"That's not what you were going to say," she accused lightly. "But it was sweet enough that I'll let it stand."

For once, he had no sharp reply, but simply bent to kiss her forehead gently. She would have none of it, instead wrapping her arms around him for a proper SOBbing snog. She clung to him longer than she should have, feeling so warm with his lips on hers, until…

"Is that anything like a Dementor's Kiss?"

The two Slytherins broke apart to find Fred and George Weasley peering down at them over the back of the green velvet couch. Ravyn was faintly amused, but hid her smile as Draco glared death at the two of them. 

"Just out of curiosity," Fred continued. "I mean, I would think it was quite the same…"

"What are you _Gryffindors _doing here?" Draco snapped. It was often said that one of the requirements to be Sorted into Slytherin House was the ability to say the other house names as though they were the greatest insults. 

"Well, we heard you were having a party," Fred – or perhaps that one was George, most Slytherins really didn't bother trying to tell them apart (except Calypso, of course) – "and we noticed that we hadn't gotten our invitations."

"We knew that just couldn't be right," George continued with a mock frown, which quickly brightened into a smile. "So we figured you've been so busy with the planning that you'd forgotten ours. And of course, it'd be a shame to miss this party, especially after you'd spent so much time on it."

"So, here we are!" Fred finished happily. "And we've brought the rest of our Quidditch team with us." 

"Great joy of joys." Draco's expression was such the opposite of this statement that it was amusing, and Ravyn was forced to smother another laugh. 

"Awe, Fred," the twin now confirmed as George said with a false sigh. "Look how happy ickle Malfoy is."

"Yes," Fred agreed, "and we haven't even given him his present yet."

"Present?" There was true fear in that statement. Even Draco hesitated to deal with the Weasley's tricks.

"Well, of course!" Fred exclaimed. "It's only proper, you know."  
            "Yes, we could hardly show up without bringing you _something_…"

"What is it?" Draco demanded.

"Malfoy, may we introduce you to…"

"Little Draco," George finished. Over the back of the couch he hefted the furry form of a small, white ferret.

There was a moment of silence in which the twins' innocent smiles were countered by Draco's look of absolute disgust. When he finally did manage to speak, all he could say was, "That's not funny."

But, obviously of quite a different opinion of the gift, Ravyn burst out laughing. 


	6. Red and Green

A/N: To leaf, who reviewed my last chapter: no, I didn't get the QUIDDITCH thing from another fic, it's just something of an inside joke that's sprung up in our SOB group on Fiction Alley – although the fact that someone else came up with the same idea doesn't surprise me. And to everyone who reviewed my last chapter – and, well, any chapters: thank you! I love you all! Your reviews keep me going, really…

~ Chapter 6: Red and Green ~

The moon rose high over a party that had spilled out onto the Malfoys' veranda. This was probably a good thing, as the party had deteriorated into a decadent revelry of dancing, drinking, and laughter. Meaningless innuendo was battered about the room, and faces were illuminated in the eerie Slytherin green of the enchanted fire.

All in all, it was starting to look like Saturday night in the Slytherin common room. Or, well, any other night of the week… 

Draco was looking impulsively about for the Weasley twins, who had quickly disappeared into the crowd after presenting their gift. He no doubt would have been more successful if the gift in question had not been quite so distracting. Either the twins had slipped the ferret a bit of love potion before giving it to Draco, or, as Ravyn so kindly pointed out, perhaps he just recognized a kindred spirit in the blonde boy. Whatever it was, the animal seemed determined to trail behind Draco wherever he went, often attempting to jump up on his shoulder whenever the boy paused. On these occasions, Draco would yell, "Get off!" usually followed by a curse and Draco flailing around in a most un-Malfoy-like manner until the desperately clinging ferret finally fell to the ground. 

The rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team was spread throughout the room, all up to their own mischief. Flint and Akasha were cuddled on a couch near the fire, talking dreamily; Morrigun and Montague had evidently found the Malfoys' library and were reading to each other from old volumes; and in one corner, Malice, Calypso, and Xanne were watching Adrian Pucey, who'd launched into what could most accurately be labeled a stand up comedy routine. 

"So, any Hufflepuffs here tonight? There are? Damn, never thought you'd show up at a Slytherin party…"

Several of the Slytherins smirked as Pucey tormented his small Hufflepuff audience (also not unlike their days at school). Xanne, however, was preoccupied with another member of a different house: Harry Potter, who'd come with his Quidditch team and some other Gryffindors with the nerve to show up uninvited at a Slytherin party. He was sitting near Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell. He'd obviously only come with some convincing from Fred or George. While his best friend, Ron Weasley, seemed to have found amusement with a small group of Ravenclaw girls, Harry looked quite uncomfortable in this company. He didn't seem to know that she'd noticed him looking up at her occasionally, and continued to glance at her, looking away quickly to restlessly adjust his glasses or run a hand through his dark hair. Xanne wondered when he would get up the nerve to talk to her. 

From her vantage point across the room, Ravyn grinned delightedly, holding out her arms to take the rather hurt-looking ferret (if in fact it's possible for ferrets to look hurt) that Draco handed her impatiently. "Draco, isn't it cute?" she asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. "First of all, the word 'cute' is not in a Malfoy's vocabulary. And second, no, it's not _cute_, it's annoying, it's shedding all over me, and it's probably got fleas. It did come from the Weasleys, after all…"

While Little Draco sneezed distastefully at its namesake, Ravyn let his comment drop. "He's adorable, but that's not what I meant. I was talking about them," she said, nodding to where Harry and Xanne sat a little ways apart.

"Who?" asked Draco, not even bothering to look in the direction she indicated.

Ravyn gave him a longsuffering look. "Xanne and Harry!" she replied impatiently.

"Xanne and – Harry _Potter_? _Potter's_ in _my house_?"

"That's hardly the point I was trying to make, and besides, Fred and George told you that their whole team was here –" But Draco wasn't listening; he was shoving through the crowd toward the boy who had been his rival since their first year at Hogwarts. He came to a stop in front of the Gryffindor, crossing his arms over his chest and giving Harry his best glare – which, for Draco, was saying a lot.

"What are _you_ doing here, Potter?" he spat the icy dagger of a question at the boy. 

"Erm… crashing your party?"

"Crashing – good lord, Potter, this is what you call crashing a party? Leaving your arse print in my couch? Let's hope you don't get really wild, I'd hate to see your feet on the coffee table… In fact, I'd hate to see your feet anywhere in my house. Why don't you kindly sod off? And while you're being so helpful, take this with you." Draco turned, taking the squirming white ferret from Ravyn's arms and depositing it in Harry's lap.

Confronted with his nemesis, Harry suddenly seemed more confident; while dealing with a house full of Slytherins was enough to make Godric Gryffindor himself think twice, dealing with Draco was quite a different issue. He'd been doing that since their first year, and he'd become quite good at it by now.

"Wow, Malfoy, even for you, it's a bit irresponsible to be having kids this early, isn't it?" he retorted, brandishing the ferret as evidence to support his case.

Malfoy's cheeks were tinged with pink. Being insulted by Ravyn or his teammates was acceptable because he knew that (for the most part) they were only joking. However, for Harry to insult him – and in his own home – was simply unacceptable. His eyes narrowed, and his voice became dangerously quiet. "Look, Potter," he said ominously, "if you and your filthy, disease-ridden little housemates have grown attached to what few brain cells you possess among you, I suggest you leave now before I hex them onto that wall behind you and have to tell my mother that the house elves decided to redecorate."

By now, a large crowd had gathered around the two, watching them with a carnal eagerness – or, because, as many of the girls agreed, Draco and Harry were "so cute when they're angry." Ron sprang up to defend his friend, saying harshly, "Keep your empty threats, Malfoy. Harry's not afraid of you, right, Harry?" he clapped his friend on the back, shoving him in Malfoy's direction. 

He was right; Harry wasn't particularly afraid of Malfoy. In all their years of bickering, neither of them had been seriously injured by the other. However, this was not Hogwarts; Harry didn't have the protection of school rules, a fussy Professor McGonagall, or a kindly old Dumbledore. Here, he had only a handful of Gryffindors behind him against a crowd of Slytherins that seemed to be growing right along with the size of their evil smirks. "Er, right…" He glanced nervously about, his eyes stopping at a single sight: Xanne Malloy, smiling. Not cruelly, as if she expected him to be lying on the ground covered in hex marks in the next second, and not smirking like her housemates. She was simply smiling at him. He smiled back, adjusting his glasses once again, and turned back to Draco, fully expecting to be mocked for the very un-Slytherin moment.

He was spared, however, when Kate Le Fay pressed through the crowd to find her friends. She saw Ravyn first and quickly whispered something in her ear. "Really?" the dark-haired girl asked, a delighted smile springing up on her face. Kate nodded, and suddenly Ravyn had disappeared into the crowd. With her vanishing, Draco seemed to be distracted, and the others surrounding the pair were now preoccupied with whatever it was that had several Slytherin girls squeeing and rushing for the door. Apparently, the fight had quickly lost its appeal.

"What's going on?" Xanne questioned when Kate had reached her, Calypso, and Malice. 

"Oliver's just arrived," Kate informed them.

"Oh?" the three chorused, with varying degrees of interest in that simple fact. 

"Yes," Kate replied, eyes gleaming. "He and Persephone taking a walk around the garden as we speak."

"Ooo, walk in the moonlight, out under the stars, very romantic…" Calypso commented, her eyes taking on the same mischievous glimmer. 

"I don't see how that concerns us," Malice said dryly. When Kate looked almost offended, she added, "I mean, I'm happy for Persephone and all. I'll give her the contraceptive potion myself. But I don't see why everyone you tell jumps up and heads for the door."

In fact, while she'd been speaking, Calypso and Xanne had also risen and were now making their way outside. 

"Why? It's Oliver Wood!"

"Yes…"

"And Persephone!"

"So?"

Kate let out an exasperated sigh. "_So_ he's shown up in a kilt, and if I'm not mistaken, it's quite windy out tonight."

Malice was up in a second, and the two of them rushed to catch up with their friends.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"So, Puddlemere United, huh?"

"Well, the reserve team." While the statement was humble, Oliver still wore a very charming smile. The silvery light of the moon softened the lines of his face, but the eyes that held Persephone's captive were still distinct and bright. 

"Still, that must be so exciting for you."

"Oh, it's great," he said enthusiastically. "I mean, it's a whole different game, professional Quidditch. There aren't just the three other teams, you know? There's hundreds of players to analyze and understand, different teams, different tactics…"

Awkward silences would obviously never be a problem as long as Oliver was around. One needed only to mention Quidditch, and he could fill any gap talking about it. He was rambling, but Persephone found it adorable. She was content merely to sit on the bench in the soft night breeze (While there was snow on the ground around the Manor, this particular part of the gardens was charmed to be a constantly warm, summer night.) and listen to him talk about something he loved.

Well… perhaps that was enough about the something he loved.

She laid her hand gently on his arm, saying, "I'm sure you'll be brilliant." He jumped, almost as if he'd been woken from a light sleep, but upon seeing her sweet smile, he did nothing but grin down at her in return.

"So what about you? I know you play the piano."

"Yeah, but it's not a big deal," she replied modestly.

"What do you mean? I've heard you play, it's…"

Her eyes fell shyly to the moon-bleached grass at her feet before meeting his gaze once more. "It's what?"

"It's… magical. Everything you do is magical."

She felt a faint flush growing in her cheeks, hidden from him by the night. "Me? I'm surprised you'd even notice. I'm the quiet one, you know…"

"Quiet?" he asked gently. "That's a shame. I'd love to get to know you better."

"What do you want to know?" she asked shyly, almost as though she was afraid of the answer. The couple had moved closer together without quite realizing it, and the proximity only served to make the night's faint chill disappear. 

"Anything," he replied casually, followed by a more sober, "Everything…"

She turned to look up at him; he was so close that this only put her lips near his. She hesitated for a mere instant before deciding that this wasn't a bad thing, and leaned in slowly, deliberately…

"Are you actually _spying _on them?"

The loud voice from behind the hedges shattered the quiet moment, the fragments of their kiss now strewn about the ground at their feet as both pairs of eyes flew to the hedges. It was unmistakably Draco Malfoy, and the voices that not-so-politely informed him to shut up were no doubt the other cheerchics. 

"Draco, you've ruined it!" Ravyn hissed, and she soon she was seen shoving him back towards the door. She paused to peer around the hedge at the pair seated on the bench, flashing them a kind smile. "Carry on, please, don't mind us." And with that, she drug Draco back in doors. 

Persephone looked back at Oliver, who seemed a little uneasy with the thought of having witnesses to the moment. She smiled apologetically, and he rose, offering his arm. "Care for a drink?"

She grinned, accepting readily. "I'd love that."


End file.
